The Wizard
by 1Belphoebe
Summary: Harry had one friend in primary school. Sherlock never got over his one and only crush. Very slow, soft romance.
1. Chapter 1

At just seven years old, Dudley Dursley had managed to get suspended from school. Harry overheard his guardians talking about it as he straightened up the kitchen after dinner. Dudley was up in his second room playing with his new video game and Petunia and Vernon Dursley had taken the chance to discuss what was to be done.

"It's that new teacher of his," Petunia justified. "She's had it out for poor Dudders since the year began. Do you remember that ghastly note she sent? Claiming _our_ Dudley had bullied one of the other children. I told her it had to be a misunderstanding. Our Dudley couldn't hurt a fly."

"Of course, Pet." Vernan agreed. He rarely ever disagreed with his wife.

"Vernon, let's move."

"What?"

"Well, if staying here is only going to hurt Dudley, let's move. It's the perfect time since he'll be out of school for the week anyway. Mrs. Dillard down the street was telling me about the school that her nephew attends which sounds perfect. It would be a fresh start for Dudley."

"But what about my job?"

"Please, Vernon?"

"Alright Pet. Start looking at houses and I'll pick up some boxes after work tomorrow. I'll let them know that something's come up and put in my two weeks."

Harry quickly finished wiping down the counter and scurried into his cupboard. A new school. He wonders if he'll be in a different class than Dudley, if he would finally have the chance to have friends. It would mean leaving his cupboard behind though. He runs his fingers over the drawings he's taped up on the walls and the crayon on the ceiling which proclaims "Harry's Room" just in case anyone ever got the chance to wonder.

""

Sherlock was staying quiet today. Mummy had told him that morning if he had nothing nice to say to others, that he should say nothing. He sighed as he gazed out the window. He rarely had anything nice to say. He was bored. And surrounded by idiots.

"Sherlock." He turned back to the front of the class at the sound of his name. "Please pay attention." A couple of the students giggled at the perceived chastisement. The teacher smirked a little bit. Not so much that anyone but he would take notice.

He tried, he really did, but sometimes he just couldn't help himself. "Why?"

The teacher gave him a rather severe look. "Because you come to school to learn." She replied.

"Dull." Really she was bringing it upon herself.

"Excuse me?" Sherlock detected the warning in her voice, but really she should know by now that is was best for everyone to just leave him alone.

"Elementary math is dull. I already know my times tables. Furthermore, I know that you're pregnant and that it's not your husband's." The classroom was deathly quiet by now. "Yes, this class is dull, you're dull, this whole _town_ is dull, and I'm bored. Nothing new or exciting ever happens here, and I'm supposed to be quiet instead of rude which is much more difficult when you insist on talking to me. So just leave me be and we'll both be much happier."

The teacher's face was white and she was clutching the piece of chalk so tightly her tendons were clearly visible across her knuckles. "Principal's office. Now."

Sherlock sighed. Mycroft was going to be insufferable when he found out. He really had tried.

""

Harry had learned long ago that when Dudley didn't go to school, he wouldn't either. He always hated those days because although he usually had chores to complete, Dudley rarely had anything to do other than torment him.

Today, Harry had been told to stay in the yard and weed the flowers Aunt Petunia had had placed, bordering the house. Dudley had taken to throwing a ball against the tree in the side yard. Harry did his best to remain unseen by him. He had just finished pulling the weeds from around the rose bushes when he heard a most unwelcome voice.

"Hey Duds." Piers. One of Dudley's more volatile friends. If there was one person Harry preferred living with Dudley to, it was Piers. Harry quickly made his way to the garden hose. He couldn't enter the house without cleaning off, but after that he could get away with making lunch for everyone, and stay within eyesight of Aunt Petunia where Piers was less likely to beat him to a pulp.

He scrubbed his hands and arms before closing his eyes in order to get his face. The cold water felt like ice after so much time in the sun.

Suddenly, the hose was snatched away and his arms were trapped behind his back.

"Hey Freak." Piers smirked. "Dudley was just telling me that you'll be moving away soon. That just breaks my heart. I sure am going to miss you. Will you miss me?"

Harry hesitated. What did Piers want? Piers stepped closer when he didn't get an answer fast enough. He grabbed Harry by the face, painfully digging his fingers into Harry's jaw.

"You don't think you'll miss me, Harry?"

Harry began to tremble. Quick as a snake, Piers forced open Harry's jaw and brought the hose to his mouth. Water flooded his mouth and Harry tried to swallow, to block his throat and turn away, to breathe through his nose, to escape the hold that his cousin and Piers had on him. It was hopeless. No matter what he did, he couldn't get away. Could do nothing other than choke. He heard Dudley chortling behind him as he struggled to find a way to breath. Tears were beginning to fall down his cheeks as he prayed that they would get bored soon. The water was taken away.

"Say you'll miss me, Freak." He heard Piers saying. "That's all you have to do. Tell me how much you'll miss me and all of the fun we have. You like playing games with me right? Right?" He shook Harry's head a bit with the repetition before bring the water back to his mouth.

Harry made a garbled, choking noise through the water as he tried to speak.

"What was that, Freak?" Piers lifted the water hose away once more.

"I'll miss you, Piers." Harry mumbled hoarse. He flinched as the water was brought close again.

"And?"

"And I like the games we play, Piers." Harry was still crying and taking deep ragged breaths.

"I know you do, Freak." Piers tapped his cheek "I know you do."

Harry didn't see the punch coming, but he heard the laughter as he doubled up, once again struggling to breathe. He was released and tumbled to the ground next to the still running garden hose. For the first time, Harry felt happiness towards the move. Anything was better than Piers.

""

"I can't take it anymore. He's driving me spare." Sherlock hear through the door. "It's always something. Either he's not paying attention to the lesson, or he's belittling me in front of the class. Either way it's completely disrespectful. You have to do something about it. I refuse to put up with it any more."

Sherlock kicked his legs out the _I refuse to deal with it anymore_ echoing in his head. He refused to let it hurt him. He didn't want to deal with stupid people anyway. He had begged Mummy to just let him work with a group of tutors, but she hadn't listened. She said that learning to socialize was important. Sherlock couldn't understand why. All he learned was that people couldn't understand him, and rarely even bothered to try. But he loved his mummy, and tried to please her, so he kept trying to stick out this hell.

He didn't have any friends. Mycroft said it was because he wasn't trying hard enough, but Sherlock felt had tried quite hard. He had introduced himself, and waited for the others to do the same, as custom demanded. He had listened to their tedious conversations and even tried to add input every now and then. It wasn't his fault the others had a hard time keeping up with him. He hadn't even made it through Kindergarten before disaster struck.

He had tried to console one of the others about the divorce her parents were going through and she had slapped him before bursting into tears. He didn't understand what he had done wrong. He had expressed sympathy, and told her that it wasn't her fault, but that was the first step into exile. The second occurred when Sammy Turner couldn't find the superhero doll he had taken to show and tell. The whole class had been held after while the teacher checked everyone's bag. Sherlock spent the time colouring. He had already figured out what had happened to the stupid doll, and was just waiting for the teacher to catch up. The teacher found the doll in Tom Joyner's bag , and when she went to pull it out, the leg fell off.

"You broke my Spiderman!" Sammy accused.

Sherlock looked up at this brow furrowed. "No he didn't."

"Yes he did. Look, his leg fell off."

"Well, yes, but you're the one who broke it. You were playing with it during recess, and you've still got glue on your hands from where you tried to fix it."

"You're lying!" Sammy accused panicked.

"I am not. You've even got a scrape across your knuckles from where you tried to shut Tom's bag and the zipper stuck." He looked over to the teacher. "He broke his own toy."

The next day, Sammy started saying bad things about him. One was that he was a freak. For whatever reason, that name stuck among the children, and no one even attempted a conversation with him anymore. He was laughed at and teased. But he stuck through it, and tried not to let anyone see how much it hurt, because he loved his mummy and wanted to make her proud.

Mummy came to the school and talked with the principal. Suspended for three days. Mummy sighed when she came back out to the hallway, and Sherlock hung his head. The driver took them home and she didn't say anything to him along the way. Sherlock didn't mind. He had three days to do what he wished.


	2. Chapter 2

The house Petunia decided on had two floors, much like their old home. On the ground floor were the living room, kitchen, and a guest room and bath. On the upper floor were the master and two other bedrooms. There was no cupboard to keep Harry in, so Dudley was not pleased to find out that he would be giving up his playroom. As it turned out it took three weeks to move into the new house and three days after that, Harry found himself in the front office of his new school alongside Dudley. Mr. Sharper, for that was the slightly rotund principal's name, stood up from behind his desk to introduce himself to the boys.

"Welcome to our school Mr. Dursley, Mr. Potter. I'm sure you'll both fit in, and catch up with your peers in no time. You've been placed in the same class this year, in order to smooth your transition, and your teacher's name in Miss Jennings. Now, she's in room 107. Follow me and I'll take you there and introduce you both."

The hallways were painted white, but the poor lighting gave them a greenish/grey hue. By each door was a pin-up board displaying a mix of work and pictures. About halfway down the hall, Mr. Sharper stopped in front of a wooden door with several maths tests displayed beside it. There was a cardboard cutout taped at the top of the door telling the boys that this was Miss Jennings classroom.

Mr. Sharper knocked before opening the door himself.

"Good morning Miss Jennings, I've brought two new boys for you today. This is Dudley Dursley," He grabbed Dudley by the shoulders, "and his cousin Harry Potter. Say 'hello' everyone."

As the chorus of enthusiastic greetings rang out, Mr. Sharper winked at the boys before nodding to Miss Jennings and leaving, closing the door behind him.

"Hello boys, why don't you find your seats and get settled. We were just getting ready to begin our history lesson for the day. I believe there's a seat behind Sherisse Causey, and one next to Sherlock Holmes."

The seats weren't very hard to find, even without her direction, the classroom wasn't all that big after all. Predictably, Dudley saw Sherisse, a slender girl with blonde pigtails, and immediately went to sit behind her. Harry went further to the back of the classroom and took the only other available seat beside the boy. Sherlock, right? He was slender as well, with dark hair and blue eyes, but Harry worried that he was a trouble maker with the way that he was slouched in his seat and gazing vacantly into the classroom. As if the boy felt Harry studying him, he glanced over, meeting Harry's eyes, but his gaze quickly flickered away dismissing him as unimportant. Harry flushed, and looked away. He wouldn't have been able to make friends in the same class a Dudley anyway, so it didn't matter.

""

Sherlock had to admit, school was slightly more tolerable with a new teacher. After his suspension he had been transferred to Miss Jennings class, and she quickly learned that he had no need for the class. She held him back from art on the third day, a Friday, and told them that as long as he was able to do the work and turned it into her on time, she had no problem with him doing his own thing, as long as it didn't distract others from learning.

Sherlock spent the weekend thinking about what he could do that would keep him entertained and not distract other students. He was unable to come up with much, as anything that could keep his attention was typically volatile. That Monday was notable, only for the introduction of two new students. One was a bully, verging on obese. Immediately dismissed as having a low IQ, and an irritating personality – he would need to be avoided. The other one was smaller, likely malnourished with a submissive personality. Abuse likely – probably where the larger one had gained his need for a sense of power and control. The distraction they presented was brief, though, and after a brief study of the abuse presented on the one sitting next to him on Tuesday, he quickly drifted into a state of boredom for the rest of the week.

""

The first few days of class went by like any other week, and Harry quickly realized that a new location did not mean a fresh start for him if Dudley had anything to do about it. Unlike Harry, he had quickly made friends and was busy terrorizing his classmates, especially Harry. Overall, however, Harry was enjoying the move. Miss Jennings was always very nice to Harry, even when he was prevented from doing his homework. She even started letting him do it inside of class. She never accepted any of Dudley's wild stories either.

The boy that sat next to Harry freaked him out a little bit. During history class, he would snort and mutter beneath his breath, and science was worse. He tended to correct the teacher which made Harry nervous. He was glad that Miss Jennings was so nice for Sherlock's sake. If he ever tried to correct Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia like that, he wouldn't be fed for a week. Usually during math and grammar, he would just stare out of the window. Miss Jennings never seemed to mind as long as Sherlock turned in the work. On the second day of class, he caught Sherlock staring at _him_ during math. He squirmed in discomfort, but didn't have the nerve to ask Sherlock what he was doing, so ignored him the best he could. It was the last time Sherlock had even glanced at him though, as far as Harry could tell. Weird.

""

Sherlock was going spare. He needed something to keep him occupied. He had just spent the last class period reviewing Latin Verb endings and making sure he could remember all of Tchaikovsky's Concerto No. 1. He hoped to be able to perform that one for his next recital.

As they lined up for recess, Sherlock noticed one of the new students…Terry? no, Harry…twitching and immediately looked for the boy's cousin. As he had suspected, the larger boy was staring down the other with a gleam in his eye. Should he get involved? Why, it wouldn't benefit him any, on the contrary it would attract negative attention that he just didn't need. It was settled then the boy would have to look after himself.

""

Harry was running. _Run, run_, _just keep running_ away from Dudley and his new friends. Harry knew it was coming as soon as the bell rang, when Dudley turned around in line and smirked at him. He tried his best to be among the first out of the door as they all clambered towards the playground. One of them had managed to snag the collar of his jacket though, and he fell, losing precious time. He scrambled up again and ran, ignoring his scraped hands and twinge-ing knee. If he could put enough distance between him and the others, perhaps Dudley wouldn't bother to chase after him. So now he was just running – past the playground, and toward the gym, where, technically, they were not allowed to be during recess. He could hear the feet behind him, of those more fit than Dudley. The ones who would hold him until Dudley could get there. He pushed himself harder, but it still wasn't enough; he could feel the presence of one of the boys at his back. He sobbed in desperation. He just wanted to be safe, to be out of reach of Dudley and his cruel gang. Harry felt his chest squeeze, as he drew in another ragged breath and closed his eyes, preparing to get caught but praying for a miracle, he stopped running.

And then opened his eyes as nothing happened. He gasped in shock as he took in his surroundings. He was in so much trouble.

""

Sherlock blinked in consternation. Before gazing around the area. Maybe he had looked away at just the right moment and the sun had temporarily blinded him. Maybe the boy had managed to climb that nearby tree. As he gazed at the group of boys looking around with an astoundingly identical dazed, confused expression he snorted in contempt. _Don't be an idiot Sherlock_. _He's not there_. No leaves have been disturbed; there are no tell-tale shadows. The boy just vanished – _that's not possible. Think Sherlock. Where did he go?_

His attention was caught when he heard a shout. One of his classmates was pointing up at the roof of the gymnasium – mouth agape. Sherlock followed the angle of his arm, and his mind went into overdrive when he saw the little boy crouched on top of the beam running across the top of the domed building. Miss Jennings cried out as she was caught up on events. Organized chaos pursued as the principle was alerted, a janitor located, and the school's tallest ladder obtained.

This was _not_ possible. So how had the boy done it? Sherlock needed more information. Sherrinford would never believe this.

""

Harry sat outside of the office, head bowed. He couldn't even last a week without doing something freaky. No wonder the Dursley's stayed so angry with him. How could he have done this to himself? Uncle was going to take away his meals again. He heard footsteps heading towards him and hunched down on himself when he realized they had stopped right in front of him, assuming it was someone come to punish him.

"How did you do it?"

Harry looked up surprised to see a boy from his class; the quiet one who stayed to himself during recess.

"I don't know. I swear I didn't mean to do it. I'm sorry."

Harry was becoming more and more frantic to prove if not his innocence, at least his ignorance.

Sherlock huffed, "Calm down. I won't hurt you. I just want to understand how…That should not be possible. I've been through the data several times. You did not have enough time to get onto the roof – no matter how high you can jump, there was nothing for you to catch in order to climb the rest of the way, and that is a three story building, you did not have time to climb the stairs at the rate you were running. So the question remains – How did you appear running toward a building one moment and on top of it the next. It should not be possible."

"I don't _know_!" Harry wailed, bewildered by all of the facts thrown his way. "I-I just wanted to get _away_! I'm sorry. I was running and just wanted to be safe. And then there was this pressure and I was just _there_. I'm _sorry_."

Sherlock sighed again and handed him a handkerchief. Obviously, this would require further research. Sherlock had never before seen, or heard of, any child in the school just appearing on the roof like that. That meant that Harry, or Dursley –less likely but not to be ruled out yet, was the changed variable. Something was different about one/both of them and Sherlock wanted to know what it was. Finally, something interesting to do at this personal purgatory.


	3. A quick aside

Sherrinford,

You'll never believe what happened in school today. There is this boy, Harry, in my class who just transferred in a week ago, and wound up on the roof of the gym. I haven't figured out how he did it yet, but I am working on it. It'll be something fun to do while I am stuck in school. I've eliminated the possibilities of scaling the outside walls, and running up the stairs (Not enough time lapsed for either). Refreshingly challenging, yes? Do you have any ideas?

Do you think that you and Father might be back before Christmas? I know that Mummy misses you, and Mycroft is not nearly as nice a brother as you. It gets so tedious around here when you are away.

Your brother,

Sherlock

""

Sherrinford,

You know that boy I was telling you about last time? His name is Harry. He did the most puzzling thing today. One of the other boys was being an idiot when Harry abruptly told him to shove off. When the boy, rather predictably, started in on Harry, the boy's hair caught on fire. On fire, Sherrinford! Have you ever heard of hair randomly combusting? I was with Harry most of the day previously, so it couldn't have been premeditated. I don't believe Harry to be violent without provocation, anyway. I do think he was the source of the fire, he acted too guilty not to be, but I can't figure out how he did it.

Your brother,

Sherlock

""

Sherrinford,

You probably haven't even received my previous letter yet, but I need some advice. Harry hasn't been to school since the hair incident, which was four days ago, and I am worried about him. In the past, I have noticed regular bruising along his collar and arms. Do you think he could be in trouble? Should I do something about it?

Sherlock

""

Sherrinford,

Don't worry about the letter I sent yesterday. Harry came back to school today. He says he was just sick, but I don't believe him. I think I am going to start inviting him to the manor after school.

I just got your letter yesterday, and I'm sorry that the meetings in America are not going well. I will see you at Christmas though, right? Tell Father that you are not allowed to miss family holidays. I will get you a really great present this year, but only if you are here to open it.

Your brother,

Sherlock


End file.
